


sever the eighth head

by antagonists



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 15:19:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12914646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antagonists/pseuds/antagonists
Summary: One rainy spring day, a wanderer finds a dragon.





	sever the eighth head

* * *

 

 

One rainy spring day, a wanderer finds a dragon.

 

“Rather far from civilization, aren’t you?” the dragon muses. She knows all the reasons humans could have for running away: death, fear, escape, a life of servitude with no purpose.

 

The wanderer looks up at the dragon with her piercing dark eyes, face cast into shadow from her straw hat. A pretty little thing, pale-faced and slender—but her fingers know blades and needles and poisons, and the best ways to handle them. She smells of metal and the choking darkness of night. This is good; Orochi has no interest in weak humans.

 

From her perch atop the mountain, Orochi bows her head, tail sweeping the rocky ground in slow, dangerous movements. The wanderer stares a moment more before she removes her hat, hair flowing like ink in the storm. She cares not for the rain on her face nor the water chilling her bones. This wanderer has been through worse. She wears scars on her neck and smoke as perfume.

 

“What is your name?” Orochi rumbles, reaching out one claw. The wanderer presses her palm to it, unafraid.

 

“I am Kagerou,” she says. She is fire.

 

“And what is your desire?”

 

Kagerou considers this for a long moment, and when she answers her tongue is not truthful.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Orochi is not a goddess of flame and chaos, but she is drawn to the fire in Kagerou’s blood, and the sparks that fly from the woman’s fingers. Women of these times are dangerous; the ire and vengeance from centuries of servitude have shaped them into weapons sharper than any blade or wit. She sits curled around the small fire while Kagerou bows, her hands clasped in what might be a prayer, clasped around a lock of hair and a shard of electric steel.

 

A servant to a god of lightning, then. A small wonder is the grief in Kagerou’s eyes, for Orochi has heard over the winds and waters of a half-god from another world, and its poor, naïve bloodshed. She says nothing and simply watches, still as the mountains around her. The rains yet fall.

 

Kagerou departs during the night, leaving her shoes behind to signal that she will return. Orochi finds this gesture somewhat strange, if not endearing. Dragons care little for company, for they are solitary creatures entranced only by the cosmos, knowledge and magic. Long ago were the times they lived among humans as gods—they are feared and hunted today. But, ah, they are still so weak to human will.

 

Back when humans waged war with the heavens, Orochi had been a spear through the skies. Now, she marks these mountains as her grave.

 

“Do you need not hunt?” Kagerou asks when she returns, carrying a dead rabbit. She moves like a ghost over the ground, silent-footed and eerie. Her hands are deft as she skins the animal, inured to the smear and stench of blood. “Though I must request that you not eat me to sate your appetite.”

 

Orochi’s laughter shakes the ground, rumbling through the stones. “Worry not, little fire,” she says, “I could not devour a creature such as you—you would burn my tongue to ash, then my heart.”

 

“Once, I did not know dragons could burn,” Kagerou says lightly, piercing a chunk of meat with a sharpened stick.

 

“And now?” Orochi wonders.

 

“I know that you can, and that you do,” Kagerou says. Her gaze is unforgiving as she looks up at Orochi through the smoke. “Burn.”

 

Orochi grins, then, and Kagerou looks away from her sharp, gleaming teeth.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The plum trees have started to blossom, painting the valleys in brighter, softer colors. Orochi thinks that they would suit Kagerou and her serious face, that they would complement her and her pretty eyes. She takes the time to breathe life into one of the blighted trees nearby, watching with great interest as the petals fall.

 

Kagerou steps through the clearing, confused, and bends briefly to scoop up a handful of flowers. She stares a moment at the newly-healed tree, then turns to Orochi.

 

“If you can heal,” she says, “why do you stay here?”

 

“Not all dragons are welcome among the people,” Orochi says, tapping her claws on the ground. They click like spelltags and ema do in the wind, and she knows that Kagerou thinks her power a waste so isolated in the sky. “Surely you understand.”

 

Ah, now Kagerou is angry. She does not show it, but Orochi can smell it clear as a burning temple, can taste the bitter crunch of sacred bone and prayers.

 

“What do you truly desire?” she asks again, lowering her head to look Kagerou directly in the eye.

 

This time, the little fire does not answer. She turns away, her ink stroke hair curling in the breeze. Blossoms bruise beneath her feet.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The wanderer returns soon enough, spirits and blood yoked to her fingers.

 

“I need your heart,” Kagerou says, and though her expression is cold her voice trembles. “I am going to take your life so that another may live.”

 

Orochi sighs. It is a clear night, the moon casting silver and shadows over the earth. “Would that I could, my dear fire, I would give you the world.”

 

“A dragon’s heart for a dragon,” Kagerou insists.

 

“A dragon of lightning is as ephemeral as the storm,” Orochi says. “A dragon of lightning cannot live forever. We are not as immortal as you believe.”

 

“Surely you could bring him back?”

 

“I am not a god of life or death.” When Kagerou presses her hands to the scales of Orochi’s throat, the dragon only shakes her head. “If my heart could grant your wish, I would give it without question.”

 

“But it cannot,” Kagerou says numbly. Orochi closes her eyes; she is weak to the tremble of Kagerou’s mouth.

 

“It cannot.”

 

“Then I would have killed a dragon for no reason,” she says, knees pressing into stone and scale. “You knew my purpose, and yet you did not deny me.”

 

“Dragon slayers have their reasons,” Orochi says. “Some less heroic than others. We have long been creatures of war, and some seek to rekindle that power.”

 

Kagerou wordlessly climbs down from Orochi’s neck, and the dragon expects the woman to leave. She is pleasantly surprised when Kagerou merely begins collecting wood from the ground, hair hiding her face. Orochi watches, as she has always done, rememorizing the lines of Kagerou’s shoulders and her calloused fingers.

 

“I think,” Kagerou finally says, sparks falling from her fingertips. “I will pray for a while.”

 

So Orochi settles into a loose crescent, eyes closed to the warmth of fire in the night.

 

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> kagerou-> 陽炎  
> flame/heat-> 炎


End file.
